twenty-one days apart
by kohee
Summary: (Updated with Shiraishi's point of view) Shiraishi goes away for a medical training programme, and that results in both her and Aizawa coming to a quite a few realisations in the days that they are apart - for example, they miss each other. Aizawa/Shiraishi
1. him

one-shot; _twenty-one days apart  
_ pairing: aizawa kosaku/shiraishi megumi  
word count: 2040 words  
note: was originally a ficlet, and then it wasn't anymore. More notes at the end.

* * *

It's a strange feeling, not seeing Shiraishi at the hospital, not seeing her at Emergency, not seeing her in her flight suit, jumping into the Heli and saving lives. Fujikawa is the one chairing the morning meetings now, arranging the roster and everyone's responsibilities as the interim staff leader, and Aizawa is still not quite used to seeing the orthopaedic surgeon in a role that is so essentially Shiraishi's (even as he grudgingly admits that Fujikawa is handling it well).

Shiraishi had been sent to Perth, in Australia, to attend a medical training program centered on Emergency Medicine, and she would be there for three weeks (twenty-one days exactly). She had been gone for three and a half days now. No, Aizawa isn't counting the days; he wouldn't do that, because that would be ridiculous, it's just…a realisation. An observation.

He feigns disinterest when Hiyama talks about her, but he's listening carefully. Perth is beautiful, not that she's seeing a lot of it, because her schedule is long and hectic, but she's enjoying herself, and she's learning a lot. He could almost see her sitting in the lecture hall, typing furiously, writing down every single word that's being spoken, detailing everything neatly in her laptop or her notebooks.

Once or twice, Aizawa finds himself typing a message to her, but he never manages to send one, because he's constantly interrupted, a phone call, an emergency situation, all of that, and he forgets after that. But he does think about her, his phone burning in his pocket, and he tells himself he should really send her a message, ask about her. One question ( _how are you_ ). One phrase ( _hope you are well)_.

He finally succeeds in sending her a message on the sixth day – _how are you –_ and she replies eight hours later, at six o'clock in the evening. He smiles to himself as he reads her message, a long explanation filled with apologies on the late reply – being who she is, she had kept her phone tucked away in the duration of the conference, only taking it out when the day has ended. She's well, she's fine, _thank you for the message, Aizawa-sensei_.

He doesn't think he'll continue sending her messages, now that he's heard from her personally that she's well, but he does. He sends her three messages the next day, and six messages the day after next. He's engaging in conversation with her on the ninth day (he might as well just admit it; he's counting the days), at seven o'clock in the evening, both their phones lighting up in succession, with her eating cup noodles in her hotel room, and him eating sandwiches in the hospital's staffroom. It continues on the tenth day, when she's preparing her presentation and he's writing Natori's performance report. And it just goes on, their messages to each other, back and forth, day after day.

On the thirteenth day, he's on the phone with her, phone tucked between his ear and his shoulder as he pulls out his scrubs from his locker, and she's having a drink at the hotel bar. He cautions her about her drinking – _you know how you are when you're drunk -_ and she laughs and promises him that she's only going to have one glass of wine. He believes her, because Shiraishi never lies.

It isn't anything deep really, their conversations. She tells him about what she has learnt, the lectures, the procedures, about meeting other emergency specialists. He updates her about the hospital and the interns, assures her that Fujikawa is doing a great job as her stand in (because he _knows_ she worries about Lifesaving, even if she says she doesn't). And their exchanges are not long either, he's never been a person of many words, and she's usually tired after a long day. They're just… _enough_. It's enough for him to know that she's okay.

But Aizawa wants to say more. He forms the words, and the more personal questions, on his phone, as he writes to her - _are you sleeping well, please remember to eat, please don't tire yourself too much, please remember to rest, please take care of yourself_ – and there're so many other things that he wants to say to her, but he doesn't say it. He'd start typing the words, and then he deletes them. He'd start asking, words on the tip on his tongue, and then he stops himself. Because he knows that it might translate to her as _I care about you, and this is me saying it_ – and that is where he hesitates. Acknowledging his feelings isn't something that he is fully prepared to do, after all. Maybe he's scared (but probably not, because Aizawa is never scared, has never been scared)

(except that he is)

It's somehow easier to disregard his feelings towards her when she's around him. With her gone, he has come to realise that in all their years together, they had never really been apart for more than a weekend, a couple of days at most. He may have spent seven years in Neurosurgery, but still he had managed to see her for all the days he was in the hospital – in the hallways, in the emergency room, in the cafeteria. Therefore, it's kind of strange, not seeing her, and he feels it very strongly, both her absence and his feelings.

On the sixteenth day, Aizawa realises that he misses Shiraishi. He's sitting in the cafeteria, one of the rare times he's sitting with the others. Fujikawa and Hiyama are trading barbs as usual, while Saejima eats her lunch calmly. He eats his ramen idly, barely paying attention to the sound and bluster around. As he's sipping his tea, his eyes lands on the chair beside Hiyama, the chair that Shiraishi usually occupies. And the thought just enters his mind, unbidden, and without warning.

 _I miss her_.

It's sudden, but at the same time, it's so obvious. She's one of the constants in his life after all, and it has been sixteen days without her. And he knows it now, and feels it; he misses her presence, he misses her.

(when had that happened? how did he not realise it when it was happening?)

Aizawa nearly says it on the seventeenth day, as he's sending her a message – _good night, please sleep well_ – and he's starting to type it, _I miss_ …and then he stops, glancing at his screen. He swallows once, and then he swallows the words, deleting them, because he doesn't feel ready to put it into words. He hasn't nearly come to terms with it himself, the fact that he misses her a lot, after seventeen days apart. It's hardly any time at all, in the scheme of time and distance, and yet, this is the way he feels.

(he wonders about her, and her feelings)

He doesn't tell her on the eighteenth day, nor the nineteenth day. It's exceedingly busy in Emergency and Lifesaving on the eighteenth day and the nineteenth day, flight after flight, surgery after surgery, and Aizawa barely had time to send Shiraishi the usual message. He doesn't have the luxury of time and space to ponder about her, about him towards her, and her towards him. It's shoved towards the back of his mind, and he has to be okay with that.

The twentieth day passes, and she'll be home, back in Japan the next day, and there's no need to tell her that he misses her when she's coming back, so he doesn't say it.

(maybe he's still not quite ready)

Aizawa briefly contemplates going to the airport, but he thinks it's too big, and too grand a gesture. Sometimes he finds it difficult to define it, this _thing_ between them. They're colleagues, friends, and yet that's not all, at least, not to him. There's something else there, he knows. He's always been courageous (cutting off an arm, cutting into a brain), but somehow, he can't find the courage to acknowledge this, his feelings, for once and for all.

What does it really mean, to miss her as much as he does after twenty-one days apart?

(he knows the answer, feels it beneath his skin, and he just needs to be brave about it)

Shiraishi rushes into the hospital the very next day, approximately thirteen hours after she steps off the flight, even though Tachibana had asked her to take another day off. Aizawa knows she wouldn't, so he's right there, waiting for her, as she hurries into the staff room.

He sees her running in, still looking the same twenty-one days later, dressed in an outfit he had seen on her, countless times, with her short ponytail, her face with that familiar, slightly panicked expression because she thinks she's late – and it's _Shiraishi_ , standing there before him, like she had never left. And then Aizawa finally defines his feelings, for once and for all, because he _knows_ , it's clear as day, and there's really no use trying to tell himself that he doesn't know.

He wants to go up to her, and pull her into her arms, and tell her everything that he now knows, how it took twenty-one days without her for him to know his feelings, to _clarify_ them, when it comes to her, but he doesn't. It's not the time yet.

"Ah, Aizawa-sensei!" She says, a bit breathlessly, her cheeks flushed from running, and he wonders whether has she always been this beautiful, and how come he's only realising it now.

"Welcome back," he says calmly, and she smiles at him.

"It's good to be back," she answers, putting down her bag, and pulling out her stethoscope.

He opens his mouth, intending to ask her about Perth, about the training program, about the paper she had written and presented, but he didn't ask her, the questions that he had in mind. Instead, he tells her that he missed her.

"I missed you."

(it's out there, out in the open now, and he can't take it back, and suddenly, he's not scared anymore)

Shiraishi's still looking for something, rifling through the files on her desk, but she heard him, as she absent-mindedly replies, "I miss all of you, too," and continues searching without a glance at him.

Aizawa stands up and walks towards her. He hesitates for precisely one second, and then he places his hand on top of hers, momentarily stopping her search. She looks up at him, her face confused, and then she glances at his hand on top of hers. But she does not pull away, and he feels the warmth of her skin beneath his fingertips.

"Shiraishi," he says, his eyes locked on hers. "I missed _you_."

 _While you were gone, I missed you. I really missed you_.

Her eyes are wide as she looks at him, and he watches as realisation dawns upon her. She's not nearly as dense as everyone says she is, he thinks. Or perhaps this is too direct, too obvious, that even someone as clueless as her is able to understand it.

He waits, watching her, heart beating, as she remains silent, looking at him with those eyes, eyes that he could easily drown himself in if he allows it.

It almost seems like an eternity later, when Shiraishi smiles at him, a true, heartfelt genuine smile that reaches her eyes, and Aizawa feels his heart lifting, unravelling, just a little. She turns their hands over, so that she's the one holding his hand, fingers linking around his.

"I missed you, too, Aizawa." The meaning behind her words are clear, as clear as his had been. She missed him when she was in Perth; she had missed him a lot.

The corner of his mouth curves up in a half-smile, his hand tightening around hers, as it all changes between them. And yet, it somehow remains the same, because it's still t _hem_ , as it has always been.

* * *

It doesn't take another twenty-one days apart for him to tell her that he loves her. And when he finally says it, when he finally enunciates the word (and the emotion, _his_ emotions, _his_ feelings) – _love_ -, she tells him that she loves him, too.

* * *

A/N: Role reversal of Aizawa leaving (for Toronto)? At least that was how it started off in my head, anyway. Somehow it's always a struggle for Aizawa to articulate his feelings when I write him, but at least I always (kinda) get him there in the end.

This was intended to be a thank-you ficlet (200 reviews for glimpses! I'm ecstatic!) but it ended up being a thank-you fic, I guess. Thank you all so so SO very much for every single review and every single read. It's been a little over two months since I started writing for this fandom, and I have enjoyed every moment, reading and writing both.

Reviews and comments, as always, are love, and also fuel for writing. Thanks for reading, you have my eternal gratitude! 😊


	2. her

two-shot; _twenty-one days apart: her  
_ pairing: aizawa kosaku/shiraishi megumi  
word count: 2210 words  
note: somehow I ended up writing Shiraishi's point of view. More notes at the end.

* * *

Shiraishi never sees herself as a creature of habit. But as she slips on her blazer and combs her hair, neatly tying it into her usual ponytail, she finds herself craving that morning coffee, and missing the crisp blue scrubs. She closes her eyes, and she can almost see the morning bustle of the emergency room, everyone being on standby to receive cases, or to board the Heli. But as she opens her eyes again, she's standing in a hotel room in Perth, and it's the third day of her training programme.

She has to admit she doesn't feel entirely comfortable in Perth, not yet anyway. Mostly, it's the language problem. English has never been a problem for her when it comes to reading, writing and understanding, but she's not completely fluent when it comes to speaking. There isn't a lot of situations in Japan where she needs to speak English, after all. But she can adapt herself very well to different situations; she had to be able to, being a flight doctor and an emergency doctor. So she's confident that she will be able to adjust, eventually, in the span of three weeks.

The programme is intense, with lectures, discussions and presentations, one after another. She meets other emergency specialists, and hears from them about their experiences in their respective countries and hospitals. In the whirlwind of everything, Shiraishi doesn't forget about Lifesaving and Emergency, it's always on her mind. After all, it's hard to forget something when it has been nine years of your life.

Shiraishi sends messages to Hiyama when she's unwinding after the day's programme, telling her mostly everything, what she has learnt so far, the lecturers, other emergency specialists. Hiyama, on her part, calls her a nerd, as she wants to hear about Perth, the people ( _the men, Shiraishi!_ ), the city, the sights of a foreign country. But those are things Shiraishi doesn't really notice, not when she's travelling on work. Fujikawa texts her too, his messages a mixture of work, weird jokes and gossip. There're messages from Saejima, too, but hers are mostly work-related.

Aizawa doesn't contact her, and she doesn't contact him, too.

On her fourth day away, as Shiraishi replies to Hiyama's message – who's complaining about Aizawa – she contemplates sending him a message. But as she scrolls to his name, she hesitates. He's one of the people that she's closest to, yet they're not the kind of friends where they send each other messages, just because. _I don't want to bother him,_ she tells herself. So she doesn't message him, but she really wants to ( _how are you, hope you're well)_. She finds herself thinking about him, and often. He berates her often for not taking care of herself, but as far as she can see it, he's exactly the same. She has seen it happening, him forgetting to eat, forgetting to rest.

(now that she thinks about it, she worries about him all the time)

Aizawa's name appears on her notifications bar on the sixth day, a short message of a few words, sent early in the morning. Shiraishi stares at the message, slightly surprised, because it's unexpected. She writes him a long message, apologising for the lateness in her reply. She keeps her phone switched off when she was attending lectures, she explains, hence not seeing his message until just then. She thanks, telling him that she's fine, and she's well. A small smile appears on her face as she taps on the send button, because Aizawa's message warms her heart, however short it had been.

She texts him first, early the next morning, just before she starts her day. She checks her phone during lunchtime, and there's a reply from him, and she composes a quick note in response. He doesn't answer immediately, but when she turns on her phone in the evening, his name is there, his message slightly longer.

On the ninth day, Shiraishi's eyes are trained on her phone as she pours hot water into her cup noodles, as Aizawa tells her about a complicated case Emergency caught earlier in the day. In the midst of their messages going back and forth between each other, he chastises her for eating cup noodles, but she's sure that he's eating the same thing – or a sandwich. Those have always been his choices of food when he's on night shift. He says nothing when she points that out to him, and she knows that she's right.

(they know each other so well, but they've spent years together, so that has to be the norm, isn't it?)

The next night, she's eating a takeaway salad (a healthier choice, she tells him, and he tells her he's not exactly convinced) while he helps her with her presentation, and they discuss Natori's performance as he's writing the report. And so it continues, and replying Aizawa's messages becomes one of the first things and one of the last things she does in the course of the day, becoming a constant in the days that she's away from Japan. Their conversations center around her training programme (unlike Hiyama, Aizawa's actually interested), the interns, the rest of the Lifesaving team – it's nothing too personal, nothing too in-depth, just the two of them sharing their life with each other, with an ocean and half a continent stretched between them.

It's strange though, Shiraishi thinks. They've never really talked the way they do now, when they're apart, as compared to when they're together. After all, she sees him almost every day, for the last nine years of her life, and most things did not need to be said. They both know, instinctively, when one needed the other, and that is when one will see them together, two silhouettes at the Heliport, side by side, but not quite touching. _That_ doesn't need to be said, either.

But sometimes, Shiraishi wants to say more. She wants to tell him to eat well, to sleep well, to take care of himself, but she stops herself each time she wants to say it. She finds it hard to define her feelings for him, but she knows she cares about him, in a way that is different from her caring about Fujikawa. She doesn't know why she holds back on letting him know, just exactly how much she cares.

(maybe she's afraid he doesn't exactly feel the same? maybe?)

On her thirteenth day in Perth, Shiraishi accepts an invitation from the other doctors to have a drink together at the hotel bar. She's in mid-conversation with an emergency specialist from Hong Kong, when her phone vibrates, and she's surprised to hear Aizawa's voice on the other end. There seems to be no special reason as to why he called her, as he asks about her day and she tells him she's at the bar. There's a pause before he tells her not to drink too much, and she promises him that she won't. As she hangs up and returns to the conversation, the other doctor casually asks her for dinner the next night. She already knows what her answer will be even before he finishes asking.

Shiraishi messages Aizawa in the morning of the eighteenth day; she's becoming accustomed to their short morning exchanges, although it has only been nine days since they started this. But he doesn't reply like the way he usually does. It probably isn't anything, he must be caught up in surgery, but she finds herself looking at her phone periodically throughout the day (she keeps her phone switched on, but in silent mode, in her bag). She eventually receives his reply in the late afternoon, when she sees his name on the screen of her phone ( _it's been really busy today, and Fujikawa is being a pest)_. She smiles widely as she reads his words, for she could almost see his disgruntled face.

As she's typing a reply, the thought just floats through her mind – _I miss him_.

She stops typing as the realisation hits her fully. Eighteen days apart from him, one morning of a broken nine-day routine, and she now realises that she misses him. In fact, perhaps she's been missing him all the while (her constant in life), only that she doesn't know it. After all, she had never really been apart from him, and he'd always been there. There hasn't been a chance or a situation where she would feel his absence, not until now, and now, she truly feels it. But it doesn't seem surprising to her, and she wonders what does that really mean, that missing him almost feels _natural_ to her.

(she know what it means)

Shiraishi nearly tells him that, in a message to him on the nineteeth day – _can't wait to be back, I miss you_ – and then she deletes the words, tucks them away at the back of her mind. She doesn't feel ready, not yet. It may be just a bit too much, for him, and for them. She doesn't quite know how Aizawa feels. He's easy to read at times, yet difficult at others. She knows there exists this unspoken understanding between them (he just always seems to know when she needs him, and vice versa), but somehow, that doesn't extend to all facets of their relationship (if she could use that word).

So she misses him, and that's that, and perhaps things shouldn't change between them, because he may not want them to.

(but he told her, _in lifesaving there's you,_ and _you're interesting_ )

Shiraishi doesn't expect things to be different between them twenty-one days later, not even in the light of her own realisations. She assumes that things will fall back into their usual routine; his name won't appear on her phone anymore, neither will hers on his, as they go back to seeing each other every day.

She goes back to the hospital the morning after she got off her flight. She isn't jet-lagged, she isn't tired, and she sees no reason why she should miss a day of work. But she does wake up later than usual, and she ends up almost skidding into the staffroom, slightly out of breath, and worried that she's late.

Aizawa's the only one there, looking unperturbed as she runs in. He looks exactly the same as he did twenty-one days ago, but as he looks up at her, she thinks there's something slightly different in the way that he's looking at her. She's probably imagining things, she thinks, as she flashes him a smile, and greets him the way she usually does. "Ah, Aizawa-sensei!"

(but she wonders if _she's_ looking at him differently, because her heart's beating a little faster than usual)

"Welcome back," he says, in his usual stoic, stand-offish demeanor, as if she hadn't been away for twenty-one days.

Shiraishi laughs inwardly, thinking to herself – _I've missed this, missed seeing him_ , but of course she doesn't say it. She tells him it's good to be back, and she trains her attention on her work, stethoscope slung over her neck. She rifles through the files inside her drawer, making a mental note to catch up with Fujikawa later in the day.

There's a comfortable silence between them, until Aizawa breaks it. "I missed you."

She's just thinking of that after all, that she misses him – _them_ – and she responds almost automatically, her mind preoccupied with all that she needs to do on her first day back, "I missed all of you, too." She can't find the file she wants in her drawer, and she's just about to go through the pile on her desk when his hand presses down on her, stilling her movements.

Shiraishi feels a slight jolt reverberating through her at the warmth of his skin against hers, as she looks up at him, her mind racing, thoughts tumbling over. His eyes are on hers, and he looks serious, earnest, and she thinks there's a little bit of hope there, too.

"Shiraishi," he says. "I _missed_ you."

There's no mistaking what he really means, not with his hand on top of hers, not with him looking at her like that. And she understands it, she understands how he feels exactly, because she has been feeling the same way, in the last twenty-one days without him. She turns her hand, so that she's able to close her fingers around his palm, so that she's the one holding his hand.

"I missed you, too, Aizawa."

As a rare half-smile forms on his face, Shiraishi feels her heart overflowing with affection for the man in front of her, and she smiles back at him, her heart (her _feelings_ ) mirrored in her eyes. He takes a step closer to her, his fingers tightening around hers, and everything is suddenly so obvious, so clear, that she wonders why did it take them this long to know this, to know _them_.

* * *

It doesn't take another twenty-one days apart for her to realise that she loves him. And just as she's going to tell him that – _I love you, I really do, and it has always been you_ – he tells her first. He tells her that he loves her, and naturally, she tells him she loves him, too.

* * *

A/N: Writing Shiraishi is surprisingly harder than writing Aizawa…I think it's because while Aizawa's feelings are rather clear (to a point) in Season 3, Shiraishi's are a little more ambiguous to an extent (could be either or). Anyhow, I hope I did her justice, haha.

I didn't plan for this to be a two-shot, but the idea of writing Shiraishi was planted in my head over the weekend, and I was "convinced" (aka threatened) to see this out, so here is it.

Reviews and comments are love! Thanks for reading 😊


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